The Northern Wilderness’s scattered horse scouts from different factions had already been routed back to the previous ambush site, where the ranger captain Sun Ji had met his end.
The White Horse Rangers pursued relentlessly, cutting through the enemy like a hot knife through butter, suffering minimal casualties. Occasionally, a rider would be struck by an arrow and rendered unable to fight, dismounting to search nearby for the headless corpses of fallen comrades left behind in the retreat, placing them on horseback.
Along the way, many riderless mounts of the Northern Wilderness scouts lingered beside their fallen masters, lowering their heads to nudge the lifeless bodies in vain attempts to rouse them—riders who had been shot down by the Northern Liang border troops. Most of these warhorses still bore one or two severed heads of Sun Ji’s rangers hanging from their saddles, their eyes wide open in death. The wounded rangers under Li Hanlin and Wei Musheng silently turned south, collecting corpses and retrieving heads as they went, gathering the scattered and lonely Northern Liang warhorses. If they found any horses still clinging to life, the rangers wouldn’t ignore them, crouching to stroke their heads before delivering a swift, merciful stab to the neck.
In the Northern Liang cavalry, nearly every soldier believed that the warhorse they treated as their “little wife” in this life would be reborn as a human in the next—a fellow Northern Liang border soldier, ready to fight alongside them once more.
Operas often say that a clay pot is bound to break by the well, and a general is destined to die on the battlefield. But no matter how stirring the opera, it can never truly capture the sorrow of war.
The commanders of the Crow Barracks, Yelü Chucai, and the Black Fox Barracks, Lin Fu, rode side by side. Behind them, only a handful of Long Pass scouts remained to cover their retreat; most of their horse scouts had already fallen to the White Horse Rangers’ light crossbows and Liang sabers. Lin Fu, his face slashed open with a deep gash, gasped for breath, each inhale sending searing pain through his bone-deep wound. Yelü Chucai casually snapped off a crossbow bolt embedded in his shoulder and looked back. The Long Pass horse scouts had been wiped out on the Dragon’s Eye Plains, and the Crow and Black Fox Barracks were down to less than forty percent of their original strength. Suddenly, Yelü Chucai frowned. “Why have the rangers slowed down? Have Li Hanlin and Wei Musheng caught on to our plan? If they push just thirty more li north, my brother-in-law’s eight thousand cavalry will have them surrounded! Lin Fu, whether we can wipe out all three Northern Liang ranger units depends on whether they take the bait for these last thirty li. Any ideas?”
Lin Fu grinned through the pain. “Ideas? Of course. Dead men tell no tales. The question is whether you’re willing to pay the price, Yelü Chucai.”
Though Yelü Chucai had always been called a fool by Dong Zhuo, he was still a seasoned commander. Lin Fu’s words stripped away any lingering hesitation. Taking a deep breath, Yelü Chucai signaled to a Crow Barracks deputy, a veteran who had fought alongside Dong Zhuo since his youth. Without needing further explanation, the deputy grinned at Yelü Chucai, nodded, and turned his horse, shouting orders as he led eighty elite Crow riders to deliberately slow their pace, falling to the rear. At the same time, Lin Fu’s Black Fox Barracks dispatched sixty riders to do the same, both forces positioning themselves to make a desperate stand to cut off the rangers’ pursuit.
As Li Hanlin’s unit slowed their chase, Wei Musheng rode up to him in a hurry, his tone accusatory. “Captain Li, if your men are too exhausted to pursue, just say the word, and my unit will take over! Why let the enemy escape like this?”
Li Hanlin stared ahead at the Northern Wilderness scouts. When he spotted the furtive movements of the 140-odd elite riders, he raised his saber and pointed forward, his voice grave. “It’s confirmed—the Northern Wilderness has an ambush waiting, and their main cavalry force can’t be far. Otherwise, the Crow and Black Fox Barracks wouldn’t be sacrificing these riders. Wei, keep your men fresh. The real fight is yet to come. Yuan Nanting’s White Feather Light Cavalry will be here soon. Let’s see who eats whom!”
The Northern Wilderness marched south to cross Northern Liang and swallow the Central Plains, their soldiers fighting for glory and rewards.
But we of Northern Liang fight to save lives.
It’s not the same.
Wei Musheng followed Li Hanlin’s saber and saw the 140-odd elite Northern Wilderness riders slowing to block their path, seemingly buying time for their commanders to escape.
Li Hanlin’s face twisted with fury. “You want to die? Fine! Li Shiyue, Fang Hutou, take a hundred riders each and charge with me! No holding back—just kill!”
From a distance, Lu Dou shouted, “Count me in!”
With both sides nearly out of arrows, the battle would be decided by sabers.
The Northern Wilderness scouts raised their blades.
The Northern Liang rangers tightened their grips.
The 140-odd Crow and Black Fox riders clashed violently with Li Hanlin’s 200 rangers, the two forces passing each other in a deadly dance.
With such small numbers, their formations remained tight, each line no more than four or five riders wide.
In such conditions, those at the front died first.
Li Hanlin, Lu Dou, Li Shiyue, and Fang Hutou—one captain, one commander, and two lieutenants—led the charge.
Li Hanlin struck cleanly, slashing a Crow rider’s throat in one motion.
Lu Dou, blessed with monstrous strength, swung his saber with such force that it not only shattered an enemy’s blade but cleaved the Black Fox rider in half at the waist.
Li Shiyue’s strike was the most precise, dodging an enemy’s slash before driving his Liang saber into the Crow rider’s throat.
Only Fang Hutou, straightforward as ever, failed to kill his opponent, their sabers clashing heavily instead.
After Li Hanlin and Lu Dou each killed three riders, and Li Shiyue dispatched two, the third enemy in his path nearly stabbed him in the neck.
Li Hanlin, catching sight of this from the corner of his eye despite Lu Dou blocking his view, barked, “Old Lu!”
Lu Dou reacted instantly, yanking a nearby corpse—still upright in its saddle—and hurling it into Li Shiyue’s attacker.
With a grin, Lu Dou mouthed six words at the narrowly spared Li Shiyue.
Li Shiyue snorted and ignored him.
Lu Dou was reminding him that he now owed him six lives. By their pact, back in Lingzhou, Li Shiyue would have to treat him to the most expensive courtesans six times.
But they all knew their rewards had long been sent to the families of fallen comrades.
None of them had a penny to their names.
As the two forces intermingled, Fang Hutou was knocked from his horse by an enemy saber, about to be trampled. Li Hanlin moved to help, but Lu Dou shouted, “I’ve got it!” and leaped from his saddle, clearing Li Hanlin and landing in a crouch. He lunged forward, slamming both fists into the belly of the Northern Wilderness warhorse, sending rider and beast flying sideways. With a light kick, he shoved Fang Hutou out of harm’s way just as another enemy charged. Lu Dou grinned wildly, not dodging but coiling like a snake, his body low to the ground as he slithered beneath the horse. At the last moment, he surged upward, using his shoulders to flip the massive steed. The unprepared rider lost his balance and was decapitated by a passing ranger.
Li Hanlin focused on killing, but when he realized Li Shiyue was no longer in his peripheral vision, he risked a glance back. Li Shiyue, now a dozen paces behind, had just slain another Northern Wilderness scout, his face splattered with blood. The young nobleman, catching Li Hanlin’s look, flashed a bright smile and nodded reassuringly.
Li Hanlin smiled back and turned to rejoin the fray.
But when he finally broke through the enemy line and paused to catch his breath, waiting for Li Shiyue to emerge, he waited in vain.
He would never see him again.
Eyes red, Li Hanlin wheeled his horse around and charged back.
By the time the 140 elite Northern Wilderness scouts lay dead and most of Li Hanlin’s rangers had resumed the chase, he finally found Li Shiyue.
He lay in a pool of blood, staring at the sky.
His breathing grew faint.
Li Hanlin sat beside him, cradling him gently.
Lu Dou and Fang Hutou, bloodied and silent, sat across from them.
Fang Hutou, the gentle giant of their group, suddenly buried his face in his hands and wailed. “It’s my fault! If I hadn’t been useless, Old Lu wouldn’t have had to save me! If he’d been watching Shiyue’s back, Shiyue wouldn’t have—! I killed him…!”
A man who had borne thirty battle wounds without shedding a tear now sobbed uncontrollably.
Li Shiyue’s lips trembled, as if trying to speak or shake his head.
Pale-faced, Li Hanlin looked up at Fang Hutou. “Hutou, if we’re brothers, don’t say that. Do you want Shiyue to leave uneasy?”
Fang Hutou choked back his tears, wiping his face with his arm as he gazed at Li Shiyue.
Lu Dou smeared the blood on his face, turning it into a grotesque mask. He gently took one of Li Shiyue’s hands. “Back in Qingzhou, we say debts must be paid, even between brothers. You owe me six lives, Li Shiyue. No welshing. If not in this life, then the next… so we’ll meet again.”
Li Hanlin’s lips quivered, but he refused to weep like Fang Hutou.
He looked at the young man who had once said studying was worse than being stabbed, at the two gashes across his chest where Northern Wilderness sabers had pierced his armor, at the man who had joked that a fortune-teller predicted his death in October.
Forcing a smile, Li Hanlin leaned close and whispered, “Shiyue, you always said your sister was the most beautiful woman in the world, that you’d make me your brother-in-law. But after visiting my home, you never mentioned it again. When we visited Fang Hutou’s place and yours, I met her. Truth is, she’s plain compared to the women I used to know. But her heart… she’s kind. I really liked her. She’d make a good wife. I just couldn’t bring myself to call you ‘brother-in-law.’ Better late than never, right?”
Li Shiyue’s eyes slowly closed.
Li Hanlin rubbed his eyes and exhaled softly. Turning to Fang Hutou, he said, “Hutou, stay with Shiyue. Take him back to Qingyuan Garrison.”
As Fang Hutou opened his mouth to protest, Lu Dou shook his head.
Li Hanlin and Lu Dou mounted fresh Liang steeds. Gazing into the distance, Li Hanlin said, “I’ll make up for Shiyue’s share. You take Hutou’s?”
Lu Dou nodded silently.
Suddenly, Lu Dou spoke. “Hanlin, did you really like Shiyue’s sister?”
Without hesitation, Li Hanlin smiled. “I didn’t say it just for him. I truly liked her. Fell for her at first sight—no logic to it.”
Lu Dou’s gaze softened as he looked afar. “Shiyue and Hutou only knew I was from Qingzhou. But you know more—that I was once a deathsworn of the Lu family, a retainer of Northern Liang’s Princess Lu Chengyan.”
Li Hanlin nodded. “The woman you loved was worthy of you. That’s enough.”
Lu Dou, for the first time, smiled. “She loved another, and I accept that. In this life, having you three as friends is enough.”
Li Hanlin watched Fang Hutou’s distant figure ride away and murmured, “Shiyue was always afraid of ghosts. Now he won’t have to be.”
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